Five Unforgivable Things. Vivien Brown

I would like to get the ball rolling sooner rather than later. Perhaps I could have your answer after lunch?’

      ***

      He left it until the bell rang for the end of the school day. Well, half-past three still counted as after lunch, didn’t it? The Head was busy with a mound of paperwork, a cup of coffee gone cold beside him, and Ollie knew better than to linger too long. They both knew he didn’t want to do it, but neither of them seemed surprised when he said he would.

      As he left he ran into Victoria Bennett and her mother, dithering about at the school gates, two younger kids clutching not quite dry paintings and clinging to the handle of a pram, which was occupied by presumably yet another Bennett, one that Ollie hadn’t even known had been expected, let alone born. The mother was fishing about in an enormous shopping bag, pulling out various bits and pieces, including a brown mushy banana and a roll of nappy sacks, until she managed to locate and extricate a bright-green plastic purse. ‘Now, only get the cheap stuff, you hear me?’ she said, pushing a pound coin into her daughter’s hand. ‘And no dawdling on the way home.’

      ‘Bread …’ she said, by way of explanation, standing aside to make room for Ollie to pass as Victoria ran off in the direction of the corner shop. ‘She’s a good girl, really. Just a bit scatty sometimes.’ She laughed. ‘But then, you’d know that, wouldn’t you, sir?’